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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25969891">Monsters, Madness and Mayhem</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fangirltothefullest/pseuds/Fangirltothefullest'>Fangirltothefullest</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Hermitcraft RPF</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>EVO watchers, Hermitcraft - Freeform, M/M, Minecraft, The Watchers - Freeform, Vex!Scar, Watcher!Grian, creeper!iskall, evolutionists minecraft mention, ghast!wels, hermitcraft s7 - Freeform, it's a just in case measure, monster au, phantom!bdubs, red ender!mumbo, redstone enderman, scientist!doc, the "romance" is not really in depth and can probably be seen as romantic or platonic, there shouldn't be terrible violence and no perma-deaths, which is why I chose to opt out of archive warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 10:01:16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>9,257</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25969891</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fangirltothefullest/pseuds/Fangirltothefullest</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>They realize something is terribly wrong in Hermitcraft when Mumbo starts to change and others soon follow. Grian has to face the dangerous reality of a past he left behind to figure out what's happening and help everyone before he loses himself to the power. The worst part? No one is sure if dying is permanent any more.....</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Mumbo/Grian</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>38</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>250</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I don't ship the real life players, but the characters have chaos chemistry that's fun to play with. If you want to see some of this as romantic or platonic either way should be easy I hope.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Mumbo felt<em> strange. </em> He’d been feeling strange for pretty much the entire day. Ok, actually? That was a lie. He was <em> fine </em> that morning, going about his business, trying to clean up his storage; do a little housekeeping as it were. He was perfectly fine then. But now… now things felt different….. Odd… uncomfortable. And he couldn’t place why that was. He felt itchy almost, antsy for his hands to work on something but nothing seemed to feel right. Maybe it was that Enderman. He’d taken his gear off so he could test something (always bad when your helmet and boots get caught in the machine, right?) and it seemed to come out of nowhere and down him quickly in his Industrial District. Maybe dying by it so surprisingly quickly had shaken him up. He’d gotten all of his items back though no problem, including his Netherite gear (which he looked quite fancy in if he did say so himself), so there was really no reason why the encounter should have shaken him up. </p><p>But the thing was, he didn't really feel shaken up, just antsy. As if he should be doing something very important, a compulsion he couldn’t put his finger on. And the headache didn’t help. Since he woke up in his bed from the Enderman, he’d just kept having a dull headache that simply would not go away. He chomped a golden carrot again and sighed. It didn’t seem to abate the headache either. So he adjusted his tie and brought up his chat box communicator, typing in quickly and asking if Grian had some Blackstone he wouldn’t mind lending him. Hah, ‘lending’. He’d <em> probably </em> remember to pay him back, toss a few diamonds his way later. But right now he just wanted the Blackstone so he could work on refining some stuff in the Nether. </p><p>That seemed like the best way to distract himself until he could sleep that night and hopefully feel better the next morning. He never felt better than when he had Redstone in his hands, and somehow going back to the machine he’d been working on when good ol Endy popped him over the noggin did not really suit his fancy when he didn’t feel well anyways. He’d rather have the enemy he knew- thousands of Zombie Piglins harmlessly stuck inside his machine while he safely worked elsewhere.</p><p>The moment he entered the Nether though, his headache seemed to get worse and he had no idea why. It felt like a hunger headache- like one of those grumpy, hangry sort of headaches that comes from not having enough food. He chomped another carrot and got to work. For a while the monotony of decorating and building was beautiful. He’d fixed up some of the platform cosmetically, trying to make it bigger for more storage, but it wasn’t until he pulled out his Redstone Shulkerbox that all other thoughts seemed to leave him. </p><p>He’d been hungry for <em> hours </em>and nothing had helped. </p><p>He stared down at the open box, looking at all of the Redstone dust inside; boxes and boxes and boxes of it and the urge overwhelmed him. It smelled…... Really good. Which was odd, Redstone didn't have a smell unless it was rusting. It was almost that same rusty smell now… but much more pleasant, a pure metallic kind of smell unlike the smell that Redstone contraptions get when unattended too long, abandoned for the vines and cobwebs to take over; the kind of smell that happens when a machine breaks, sputters and explodes. This was different. Fresh like polished iron or gold but still different. A metallic smell he had never fully been aware of before.</p><p>And it smelled <em> delicious.  </em></p><p>Mumbo hesitated, frozen on the sight of it, the smell in his nostrils all too tempting. He tore his eyes away, worried about his thoughts and grabbed another carrot. Was he so hungry that he was going mad? He checked his status and his hunger bar was low, as was his heart bar. Startled, he chomped another golden carrot and the effect which should have been visible quickly, just did not happen. </p><p>What was going on?! Why wasn’t the carrot helping?! He pulled out the pork chops he had but those also did nothing to abate his ever present hunger. Panic settled in quickly. He staggered back and made to pocket his items to seek out help, but his eyes landed on the Shulker box, closed but just bursting with Redstone, and everything seemed to make <em> perfect sense.  </em></p><p>“Oh.” He said plainly, hands a little shaky. He knelt in front of the Shulker as he opened it and eyed the dust inside. </p><p>Mumbo didn’t remember the journey back to his base. </p><p>When he snapped out of it, he felt much much better though and that was lovely. His headache was gone, his health and hunger bars full, and he felt relieved. Until he looked at his hands and saw the red glow. He shook his hands wildly and looked at himself in his inventory. He was just covered in Redstone dust like some creepy vampire! He had no idea what time it was- how long had he been here?! And he had no clue what was happening as he tried to shake the dust off of himself and rushed outside to scramble to the jungle water where he splashed his arms in and the dust dissipated. Temporarily relieved, Mumbo wanted to figure out what was happening, but he could see that not all of the Redstone had left his hands. Some of the particles drifted around his hands when he moved. Shocked, he watched them float and dance across his vision, his fingers glowing just barely in the light. </p><p>“Nonononono-!” He had heard silly but terrifying myths of Redstone users turning into dust if they used it too much, but he wasn’t fading, if anything he was feeling stronger, larger even. He felt taller, by several blocks at least! And each step seemed to carry him farther than before.</p><p>Mumbo realized in that instant that he was<em> terrified. </em> He had never been terrified before, so that was new. He’d been nervous when a contraption didn’t work, as well as anxious. He’d been unsettled and perturbed, worried, fearful and upset. </p><p>But never terrified. </p><p>Not until now. </p><p>He felt <em> weird </em> in his own skin, if he could even call it that.</p><p>He felt too tall, too strange, too content that he had devoured the Redstone dust and that made it all the more scary. He fidgeted nervously and wrung his hands, pacing, though he didn’t really remember moving that close to the edge of his base, trying desperately to ignore the popping shifting sounds that came from the action. He gasped in shock and fear as a step forward seemed to jolt him ten blocks without batting an eyelash, as if he;d just…. Just- </p><p>“Teleported!” He shrieked and another step caused him to overreach, unable to control the location of the jump and he plummeted off his base. Screaming in terror, he seemed to glitch out of existence again and landed on his rump on the ground without crashing, clapping extra long fingers over his mouth, desperate to silence his own grating shrieking sounds. </p><p>“This can;t be happening-” He whimpered. Any other moment he might have found this cool but this was anything but cool, it was terribly, horribly, absolutely, positively <em> awful!  </em></p><p>He shook his head, trying to force his breath to become steadier. The portals seemed erratic because he was panicking, he was sure of it. Forcing his eyes closed, he grit his teeth and finally managed to breathe, just breath. Finally he opened his eyes and in worry he looked at his hands again. Maybe it was all a bad illusion?? But they were cut with deep marks that seemed to be spreading up his arms, a jagged red, his fingertips glowing like Redstone lamps. He wrung his hands more, unable to push the floating red particles away from himself. </p><p>Ok. </p><p>Ok this was equal parts exhilarating, fascinating, terrifying, and horrible. </p><p>But he wasn’t <em> dying…. </em></p><p>And nothing really <em> hurt.  </em></p><p>So what was going on? Mumbo ran a hand through his hair (oh he still had hair, good) and fought for answers. Surely it had to be that Enderman. Surely <em> somehow </em>it managed to curse him when it killed him….. After all it seemed to attack him unprovoked if he thought about it….</p><p>Right now he looked like a very tall Mumbo with glowing hands and Redstone particles floating around him, his eyes a glowing red and his mouth glowing every time he looked inside it. Oh boy did he hope he could unhinge his jaw. If he was going to be a monster he might as well have fun with it. Now if only he could figure out how to control this teleporting consciously. It seemed to do best when he wasn’t thinking about it.</p><p>Also? The anxiety was not helping him think, and was distracting at the very least. Mumbo, the sort-of-somewhat-kind-of-cursed-to-be-an-enderman-thing, stood, noting that his clothes seemed to be fine and elongating with him (thank goodness), and he tried to think. He dragged a dirt block from the ground and held it, pacing back and forth. This time when he step-portal-jumped, the rush wasn’t terrible. It felt quite natural when he did it, but it was still very much not under his control. </p><p>“But why the <em> Redstone </em> particles, though?” He asked himself. “Endermen are black like obsidian and all purpley glowy shrieky things. Why…. red?” He pulled out his inventory mirror and looked himself over. Sure enough, Mumbo’s fears were confirmed. He looked as tall as an Enderman and holding that block he looked even more so. He tossed it down, hating that it made him less anxious to hold it, and crossed his arms.</p><p>“This is very much not good….” He mumbled and looked out to where he could see Iskall’s tree in the distance. He needed…. Advice?  “Yeah… let’s call it Redstone advice….” Mumbo groaned and took out his rockets to shoot into the sky. “But what’s he gonna say if he sees me? Hello Mumbo I can clearly tell it's you and not a hideous monster wearing your face oh gosh I sound insane, do I sound insane? I sound insane.” </p><p>He landed cautiously at the top of the tree’s inner staircase and peered down. Iskall looked like he must be putting some of the finishing touches on one of his tree’s small rooms in the trunk, and he could see him whizzing back and forth. </p><p>Would it be better to go to Grian? Or would Scar know better? Scar was supposed to be a wizard when not being Mayor or doing big digger things…. Maybe Iskall would just be upset….. But he was snapped out of his thoughts when he heard Iskall calling from below. “Come on down Mumbo! I can see you snooping! I was just thinking about you!” He waved. “This isn’t another Hermit Challenges is it?” </p><p>Mumbo ducked back behind where he was peeking and inwardly groaned. He did not want to be attacked on sight…. He had no idea what would happen. Would he die and drop an Ender pearl? Would he respawn? What if he never respawned?!</p><p>But Iskall called louder. “If you don’t stop hiding I’ll get Grian to TNT your base now get down here Mumbo!” </p><p>The other swallowed. Well it was too late to back out now. </p><p>When Mumbo landed unsteadily, he nervously trembled, body just begging to jump portal to release the tension.</p><p>Iskall took a step back and gasped, drawing his sword. “What… what <em> are </em> you?!” </p><p>“It’s… it’s me….” was all he managed weakly, not looking at him, too ashamed. “I don’t really know what happened, I don’t know ho-” </p><p>“Season 6, we built a shop-” </p><p>“Sahara.” Mumbo replied easily and he paced around Iskall’s Beacon slowly, wanting to expel energy. Maybe coming here was not a good idea….</p><p>“Ok…” Iskall nodded. “And who did we build it with? What were we called?” </p><p>“The Architechs… with Grian you and myself…. I made an ejector chair and the hole in the roof stayed for ages. Did we ever actually patch that up? I can’t remember.” </p><p>He glanced over a little and saw Iskall putting his sword away, turning back to stop and stare at the ground. </p><p>“Jeez Mumbo, what the <em> hell </em>happened to you?” </p><p>For a moment Mumbo wanted to say a bunch of different things. He wanted to say he didn’t know, that he would be fine, that he was sorry, that he needed help to fix this, that maybe a witch hated him and splashed a potion while he slept, that an Enderman cursed him probably. But all he did was crouch down and hold his too-long limbs over his head, feelings overwhelming him. He was tired and this was hard and scary and seeing his friend pull a sword on him would normally be all fun and games but what if he didn't get back up if he died? </p><p>What if death was permanent while he was like this, like it was for mobs?</p><p>“People don’t just get cursed Mumbo Jumbo…..” Iskall cautiously approached, the man scanning him with his eyepiece but nothing unusual showed up except that the readings were conflicted. Mumbo? Enderman? Redstone? He pinged off all three. </p><p>He gently touched Mumbo's… uh… creature...? shoulder?? “It’s ok Mumbo… whatever happened, whoever did this, we’re gonna help you, ok dude? In Season 6, Scar and Doc created an entire area, remember?” </p><p>“Area 77. We were hippies.” Mumbo sniffled (how undignified, he thought). “I remember….” </p><p>“That place was for some kind of whacky science garbage but maybe right now what we need is wacky science garbage. They dealt with Grian’s time machine, aliens and that giant plant monster, I think they can help.”</p><p>Iskall offered his hand and Mumbo took it, finally standing up to his full jittery height. The other smiled and looked up at him, locking eyes for a moment. Mumbo winced and couldn’t control what happened next. It was like every part of his vision went red, the burning anger taking hold of him completely. A deeply rooted instinct to lash out at the action bombarded him. He must stop it, he must stop that incessant stare- Eyes, eyes everywhere, staring, looking,<em> watching.</em> <em>Always watching.</em> </p><p>He shrieked, unholy, terrifying and loud, Redstone dusting everything as he lunged, wanting nothing more than to instinctively slaughter the thing that had stared. Iskall yelped and ducked the swinging arms, taking off into the air with his rockets before he could be slain. He clutched his arm in pain and watched Redstone dust brush off him.</p><p>He wanted to be upset but Mumbo had fear in his eyes past the anger. Whatever was happening to him was worse than he thought. They needed help…. They needed to find Doc…. “Eye contact…… right….” He muttered before slowly coming back. </p><p>The red drained from Mumbo’s vision, the fury dying and he panted, coiling his arms around himself when he realized what he’d done. “I’m sorry-” He called. “I didn't… I don’t… know how to control myself like this-”</p><p>“You’re an Enderman now. A Redstone Enderman… Red Ender. Yeah that’s way less of a mouthful.” Iskall cautiously landed. “I’ll stop looking at your eyes bro, now come on.” He took Mumbo’s clawed glowing hand, tugging him forward.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Grian gasped as he watched the confusing carnage that lay beholden before his eyes. Flashes of old worlds he had long since abandoned and whispers of a nameless terror breathed on the back of his consciousness, whispering, tormenting him with things he thought he had left behind him long ago. Guilt chewed at him at the sights of those nameless never forgotten but never spoken of- Evolutionists he had not seen in so long, of the world he had long since left juxtaposed with the Hermits he now lived with as they scrambled from the firespread which should not be </span>
  <em>
    <span>possible</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He remembered it clearly- he had forbidden it and this was His World.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But he winced and watched his friends draw sword and shield a jumbled blur of confused chaos and screams of fear, a nameless evil chasing their shadows, urging them on. He could not move no matter how much he tried and his heart beat frantic in his chest. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Why couldn’t he move?! </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Why could he only </span>
  <em>
    <span>watch?! </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>There were lights; bright green and red as klaxons blared so loud he had to hold his ears; they flashed blindingly and mechanical contraptions twisted and bent at the whims of something massive he could not make out. He could see teeth and claws; hear the screeching of some foul beast and see the sorrow of his friends around them! This was no machine, it was a prison! </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then Ravagers stampeded through his vision and Pillagers screamed and shrieked! Crossbows fired, magic shooting this way and that and he turned, seeing the flames and screams tore through his ears!</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Grian woke with a start, clutching his chest as if it would still the frantic beating of his racing heart.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was ok…. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was just a </span>
  <em>
    <span>dream.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>He closed his eyes, wincing at the afterimages of the rapidly-fading memories from the nightmare and ran his hand through his hair. Sweaty. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Gross</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grian shook his head and groaned as he dragged himself from his bed, dunking his hands into his cauldron and splashing himself clean. The cold water was good, it helped him shake the remnants of sleep off of himself. He hadn’t had dreams that felt that </span>
  <em>
    <span>real </span>
  </em>
  <span>for a long time and it was unnerving to say the least; the haunting sensation would follow him all day, he was sure of it. They reminded him of a time he chose to turn his back on and he refused to think about that right now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had made his choice. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And it had been a good choice in the end, to spare the others, even if it was</span>
  <em>
    <span> hard </span>
  </em>
  <span>and he had to face the consequences.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Still, he did not let it bother him long as he slipped on his gear and walked to the Trading Hall of his mansion and chatted with the villagers. Dwelling on nightmares really wasn’t a good idea and honestly the morning chat was calming. They sure were chatterboxes and he chuckled as he thanked them for the carrots and handed forth a few emeralds, munching as he went through what he would do for the day. Gearing up, he mentally wrote his list of chores down and strapped on his elytra.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Barge was doing very well and he made a mental note to restock the lanterns, grinning at his profits. “Definitely a good investment.” He couldn’t blame people for loving the blue flames, they  were very beautiful after all. If only they came in a better red flame instead of the orange… Redstone lamps just didn;t cut it….. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shook his head and frowned at the random thought.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Avoidance of subject thought is harder when one had memories resurface the night previous. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But he persisted and shoved them away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Somehow, though his mind was elsewhere on his chores, Grian spent most of the rest of the day feeling uneasy and the feeling only seemed to grow as he sifted through his chest monster and looked up at his mansion. He had a lot more to do, but he sighed. Something was off, he could </span>
  <em>
    <span>feel</span>
  </em>
  <span> it. He tapped his fingers against one of the shulkers of his chestmonster and let out a deep sigh, lost in thought. He didn’t like this feeling. It felt so dangerous and yet so…. familiar? But he shook his head. Mumbo had shot him a question in the chatbox communicator and asked him if he had any leftover blackstone he’d mind loaning him. Grian typed back ‘Sure’ in the chatbox and turned his mind back on task, searching his shulkers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He frowned when he saw an envelope inside that he didn’t expect, a deep black in hue. At first he thought he’d left one of the ‘Join the Upside Down!’ invitations in there and an ink sac had ruined it, but when he looked closer, he paled, staring at the envelope for far longer than he cared to admit. Deeply set against the black was a silver seal with a blue and green symbol on it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A symbol he recognized with deep intimacy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He confirmed what this was the moment his fingers connected to it: Immediately his hand shot back to himself, gasping as the flames of deep red magic that sparkled up his arm fizzled away. Worry crossed his features though, and with a sharp breath, he braced himself and grabbed it again, the flames once more lighting his skin up in that all too familiar tingling. He tore open the seal, scanning the words desperately as he clutched it:</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>We are so proud of You, friend.</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>
      <br/>
    </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>You have grown much since settling on Your new World.</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>
      <br/>
    </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>You have built Your Sanctuaries well,</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>
      <br/>
    </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>And led them when You must.</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>
      <br/>
    </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>You have even begun to master the Upside Down.</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>
      <br/>
    </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>We could not be more proud of You!</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>
      <br/>
    </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>But Your World is changing;</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>
      <br/>
    </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>A Great Evil has cast a shadow upon it.</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>
      <br/>
    </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>We must break our Vow of Silence.</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>
      <br/>
    </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>You must have the Sight returned.</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>
      <br/>
    </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>Come to the Watchtower.</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>
      <br/>
    </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>
      <br/>
    </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>You know the way, </span>
  </em>
  <b>
    <em>Watcher 3</em>
  </b>
  <em>
    <span>.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <strong>┏ -</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>      - </strong>
  <b>┙   </b>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>This was beyond startling to say the least. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grian read and reread the message several times, finally sitting down in shock and fear. They had promised not to interfere with this world, </span>
  <em>
    <span>his</span>
  </em>
  <span> world. The letter clutched crumpled in his hand, he touched his sword at his hip, tapping the hilt. Why </span>
  <em>
    <span>now? </span>
  </em>
  <span>Why reach out and break their vow now? They had all of Season 6 to speak to him, to break their promise, and yet they waited until now? When Season 7 brought so many new and wonderful things to their world? Were they planning on testing the Hermits? They usually did not interfere unless rules were broken or when it was time to head to the new update. But that had been Grian’s job. This was HIS world, not theirs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They </span>
  <em>
    <span>promised….</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>But his heart ached and he looked at the crumpled letter and smoothed it, touching the mark fondly. This was not some mere coincidence. Not after the dreams he had just had. The Watchers would not be breaking their Vow of Silence and Noninterference unless it was important, he was sure of that. Their benevolence was not certain but he could not help but trust them. They spoke of an Evil….. And Grian could not See with the way he was right now to verify their claim.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But he was certain of it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Their warning was out of genuine concern.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Something was happening, and he could feel the deeply rooted pull of the magics tugging him, willing him to seek out the Watchtower. He could feel the phantom touch of the deep red fire magic engulfing his hand but never burning him. He winced as he waved his hand around, the red particles dissipating and he set his jaw. Night was falling, it would be the perfect time to build the special Portal….. no one would </span>
  <em>
    <span>see</span>
  </em>
  <span> him to question it.... So he set his jaw and clicked his teeth together, pulling out his rockets and making his way out to the middle of nowhere. Hopefully he could dismantle it before the other hermits found it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He clutched the obsidian nervously. He did not know if he could still do this, especially since it wasn’t like he had a readily available inventory full of bedrock. Like this, he was lacking a lot of what he used to have. The comforts of rockets were nothing to the comforts of what  once was….. And while They often used obsidian, the Watchtower portals had always been made with bedrock…. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Portals had never been fully reliable to Grian either way, and he had no idea if he could even make one at </span>
  <em>
    <span>all </span>
  </em>
  <span>any more, much less with obsidian. Before, he had enough power to do it easily with any material and even then it was questionable where in the End he would end up. But he’d not tapped into the power in so long and honestly thought he never would again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But as it turned out, he needn’t have worried. Slowly he started to form the shape of the broken Nether portal, and the more he placed the blocks down, the more entranced and relaxed he became, building it larger and larger from muscle memory. It was the same shape as the one on the paper, the same shape that was burned into his very bones. He held the flint and steel and took a breath. This portal should not work by the laws of Hermitcraft, broken as it was, but with a whoosh, he felt that same tingling from the red fire before and the impossible portal sprung to life with a burst of his untouched magics rushing through him. Purple End particles clung around the portal, mixing with his own deep red ones, and he shivered at the feeling. The swirling vortex made him dizzy to stare at it, the tugging sensation from before enhancing tenfold and he doubled over as he leaned against the obsidian frame. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They wanted him back….</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They always wanted him back and he’d vowed to put them behind him, but this time he felt he had no choice. He must go back, he could feel it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Onlookers might think he felt drained from the exertion but the opposite was true. His heart raced in giddy delight, almost high from the euphoria of being in touch with those long forgotten magics and he had to take a moment to steady himself to keep his wits about him. “If Iskall knew what I could do with a portal he’d not have asked anyone else to dig up that crater….” He muttered, amused with his own jokes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grian swallowed though as he straightened.. He didn’t want to feel this; the tantalizing,</span>
  <em>
    <span> tempting </span>
  </em>
  <span>sensation of the magics he had abandoned. He’d been consumed by it so long ago and it only caused him misery. The limitless building opportunities, beyond death and time, commands that could shake the very core of Hermitcraft, </span>
  <em>
    <span>His World, </span>
  </em>
  <span>to ruin on the tip of his tongue. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“No.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> He hissed through his teeth. “Not </span>
  <em>
    <span>again.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> He would never let that elation, that </span>
  <em>
    <span>loneliness,</span>
  </em>
  <span> take him again. He was almost relieved when he felt the power drain away moments later and relaxed. He’d buried them quite deep after all. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He would talk to the Watchers first; he didn’t need to take their “gift”, he just needed to know what was going on. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He stepped through the portal and felt that deep cold of the Watchtower seep into every inch of him. He’d almost forgotten how cold it was here, even with his new garments. He looked at his clothes and sighed at the soft black and purple and silver. But the warming pull of magical tugging was enough to distract him from it. </span>
  <span>Hurriedly he ran down the hall, mismatched shoes lightly tapping the obsidian. When he rounded the corner, they didn’t turn right away when he approached, for the already Saw. He need not alert them, nor make himself known because they recognized his presence the moment he made the Door.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Welcome back, 3. We’ve been waiting for you.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>In their long thin hands, dressed in blue and green respectfully, they held his old black mask.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Scar was busy. He had been busy for quite a while working on his drill and overlooking the Shopping District. He was proud of destroying the Mycelium Menace, but spots of it kept popping up, which was no surprise as fungus tended to do that… but the district was looking beautiful and he’d put in many good rules. He checked on Bdubs earlier and his righthand man had updated him on some of the ideas he’d had for the Hermits. Jellie was back on her perch after the Lightning Event Which Shall Not Be Spoken Of, and he was fully prepared to gather his items and head into the Nether to meet with Grian and build in the Upside Down. All well and good!</p><p>But oh gosh did he miss the days of heart boxers, pink slippers and wizard beards. He counted the blocks in his inventory and was preparing for the journey to the Nether when he heard someone calling for him and he turned to see Iskall flying overhead and landing. “Scar! We need your help!” </p><p>“Me? Well goodness how can your humble Mayor be of assistance to you, my fine Hermit?” He grinned, but the look of worry on Iskall’s face made him hesitate as he landed in front of the Mayor’s….. Office? Headquarters? Throne? Honestly it was kind of hard to remember what it was supposed to be. “What’s wrong?” He asked instead.</p><p>“To put it bluntly? <em> This.” </em>Iskall gestured behind him and when Scar turned to look, he could see shaky and jagged movements. </p><p>“Woah boy enderman incoming!” He drew his sword. How did an Enderman spawn here?! It shouldn’t be possible! “As Mayor it is my duty to protect this Shopping District!” But Iskall held his hands up and blocked his path.</p><p> “Not that I don’t get it, because I absolutely do! But hear me out. That big red-glowing half-enderman thing? That’s <em> Mumbo.”  </em></p><p><em> “That’s </em> Mumbo? You’re kidding.” Scar looked to where the other was standing far too tall, eerily covered in glowing Redstone; the epitome of terrifying and not-quite-right-Enderman was moving with long strides towards Iskall’s shop, Mumbo’s long arms reaching to drag himself up top. He sat himself on the large Redstone sphere and took a block, munching the edges of it and kicking his feet. He waved. </p><p>“I’ll reimburse you Iskall!” He called. “But stop leaving your Redstone out, I mean seriously, anything could happen to it! It could get rained on and we can’t have that….”</p><p>“Ok not gonna lie,” Scar crossed his arms. “That is equally  the most bizarre thing I have ever seen and also the most Mumbo thing I have ever seen.”  His eyes sparkled as he realized what was happening. “This is a curse- Mumbo has been cursed!” </p><p>“Can you help him? As much as Iskall-MAN,” he popped the mask on and took it off again, “is good at helping Hermits’ wishes come true, this is way beyond my skill level.”</p><p>Scar nodded and thought for a moment. “I don’t think my Wizard skills are good enough to handle this curse either…... Not <em> alone </em> anyways. I think we’ll need a big dose of science to help cure whatever curse has turned Mumbo into a… um…. a Redstone eating Enderman… thing...”</p><p>“I’ve been calling him a Red Ender.” Iskall helpfully supplied and Scar nodded. </p><p>“Catchy, I like it. But I think I have an idea of who’s help we could use need to figure this out. But... Unfortunately he’s been very quiet lately….. But we’re gonna need his help if we’re gonna rebuild Area 77 bigger than last time.” He turned to watch Mumbo heading back with a Redstone block in his long arms, curled around it like he was cradling a baby. “Considering I built most of Area 77 by myself I don't think we have that kind of time on our hands. You implied he’s basically fine and still Mumbo but who knows how long that might last if his,,, er… transformation isn’t finished.” </p><p>Iskall remembered the eye-contact thing and shuddered. “Sooner is definitely better. Who did you have in mind?” </p><p>“Normally I’d ask Cub to help too as we’ve worked together before, but no, I think this requires two <em> very </em> specific people…. Doc…. though he might not be willing to come with his current dormancy, and Tango. If anyone is mad genius enough to help figure this out, it’s Tango I-built-an-entire-wacky-toontown-complete-with-crazy-redstone-contraptions Tek.”</p><p>*~*~*~*~*</p><p>The Watchers; towering ethereal creatures with claws and teeth and horns and wings; the Old Ones; the Ceaseless Observers; Relentless Voyeurs of the Unyielding Gaze, did not actually<em> look </em> at Grian. They didn’t have to turn to See him coming. They could feel his approach like a fond memory. As he stepped closer they held the mask up, each with a hand on it gentle and affectionate. The pull to it was strong, almost impossibly so, but Grian resisted the urge as he had once before and stepped closer, forcing his hands into fists so he would not reach for it. He looked upon the ones he once called his kin and the fond affection for him they had all over their eyeless faces made his heart yearn for days he could never go back to. </p><p>He left for a reason, he had to keep reminding himself that. He wanted to continue being a normal player.</p><p><em> “We have missed You so, dear 3.” </em> Watcher 1, The Green, spoke with that familiar loving gentleness and Grian tried hard not to step even closer as they both turned around fully at last and their soft smiles continued and contrasted their eldritch and ethereal forms. </p><p><em> “Dear Friend, You are not in Your colours!” </em> Watcher 2, The Blue, spoke with a gasp. <em> “Such plain purple and silver and black.... Not terribly befitting You here. Where is Your red?”  </em></p><p>“Changed when I entered; I know you saw it. You know as well as I do that powerless sets the default look. But I’m not here to chitchat, nor am I here to reclaim my mask.” Grian shivered as the eyes of their many wings gazed directly at him and bore into his soul with each passing second, questioning, wondering in silent curiosity how he could leave them for so long.</p><p>They yearned to have him back; he knew it just as he knew that he too yearned to be back and clutch at the power that once consumed him, to return to the family they felt like.</p><p><em> All eyes on me, </em> Grian thought. <em> Always Foresee. </em></p><p>“I’m here because you sent me <em> this.” </em> He replied at last, looking up at the towering figures, much much bigger than an Enderman on any day and quite terrifying if you did not understand them. “Why break your vows now? We had a <em> deal.” </em> </p><p><em> “Ah.” </em> They both spoke together and 2 took the mask as they and 1 surrounded Grian. It was not a threatening action though, they were never deliberately threatening, especially not to one who was once Among them. </p><p><em> “There is a Great Peril in Your World, Little 3.” </em> 2 spoke and placed large claws at the Hermit’s back, ushering him forward towards a large mirror. From there, the Watcher waved one of it’s three remaining clawed hands and the image of fire shone upon the mirror’s surface. The pressure of its fourth clawed hand gently held his back. <em> “Long have We Watched in silence as You Asked of Us. But this Evil threatens everything You have worked for. All of Your little Hermits are in grave danger. Even now His Evil has begun to spread and corrupt Your People.”  </em></p><p>“Evil? Who? And what do you mean ‘corrupt’?” Grian looked into the mirror and the fires shifted and twisted, eerily similar to his dream visions. But the shapes of the figures twisted and he could see…. Mumbo? His heart skipped a beat, watching in horror as the other twisted and changed, limbs long as an Enderman, body splattered with Redstone Dust and looking so much like blood it frightened him. This Mumbo, this <em> monster, </em> looked confused and afraid. Then it shifted and he was roaring, shrieking at Iskall who held true terror in his eyes and threw his hands up for an attack. “What is this?!” He demanded, touching the glass in fear as he looked up at the scene. “How?!” </p><p><em> “Your friends are being targeted, Dear Friend. They are no longer Safe in Your World. His Evil is spreading at a rate we did not anticipate.” </em> 1 ran a claw over the mirror’s surface and the scene shifted back to fire, this time showing a scene that must have surely been deep within the Nether somewhere. </p><p>“Who is this evil?!” Grian turned and looked up at them, but the Watchers were headed back to their grand table and Grian looked between them and the mirror for a moment before rushing after them. “Who could have caused this?! I thought we-<em> you </em> were the only creatures powerful enough to do this!” </p><p>Watcher 2’s wings fluttered a bit and settled. <em> “There are many Great Beings in the universe, 3. But this Evil was caused by accident and coincidence. Fate cannot always be Foreseen when it comes to random chance.”  </em></p><p>“Who?” Grian demanded, rushing between them to look at the table where the map of his world lay sprawled in three dimensional space. “Who caused this?” </p><p><em> “One of Your Own.” </em> 1 replied. <em> “The knight You call Wels is responsible for this.”  </em></p><p>“Wels?!” Grian shook his head. “He’s a paladin, there’s no way he would-” </p><p><em> “Hush, 3.” </em> 1 soothed and 2 moved behind him to place it’s loving claws on Grian’s shoulders and head, petting softly. Grian could not help but lean into their touch. He missed it. He didn’t remember how soothing they were until he was there with them; with his own kind. <em> “It was not his fault. The Knight did not know the Machine would create a Vessel for the Fires. As such technically it is also Your little Cub's fault as well. They did not anticipate the danger of untested machinery with the power to clone, meddling as they were. But this is the Past and at Your Present sits the precipice of danger. The Great Evil has been stewing within the confines of the Nether for many cycles now, working hard on a vile plan that is coming to fruition.”  </em></p><p>1 rose a hand and the Nether appeared on the map, a large Nether Fortress taking shape. Unlike others, this Fortress was intact, whole and renovated much like a towering castle of Blackstone, Netherbrick and fire. <em> “Here is where the Great Evil dwells.” </em> It explained. <em> “Guarded by mobs He has somehow claimed Domain and Control over, the Hels Knight never rests.” </em></p><p>"Hels Knight…." Grian mumbled. How did he not know of this? Why was Wels keeping it on the down low?</p><p><em> “And here,” </em> Watcher 2 added. <em> “Is where He is somehow manufacturing His Curses to Your Hermits. We do not yet Know the extent of His powers.” </em> A frightening thought if deities of the universe didn’t know his plans. <em> “But We do know that His power is growing and He will send more Evil to curse your lands for His own gain.” </em></p><p><em> “To what end, We do not yet Know. But this is not Our world Little One.” </em> Watcher 1 turned to Grian and held the mask in its hands. <em> “We cannot interfere, for We have taken the Oath and We meant it. We may speak with You and We may aid You with our Sight…. But We cannot break our Oath to You.” </em></p><p><em> “It was Binding.” </em> 2 squeezed his shoulders gently and released him, flanking Watcher 1 in a moment, blue robes flowing around it.</p><p>Grian ran a hand through his hair. “So you’re telling me you could break your oath of silence, but not your oath of noninterference?” </p><p><em> “Our Oath of Silence was with the stipulation that We could contact You if Imminent Danger was present and harmful enough to destroy Your World’s way of life, Dear Friend. </em> ” 1 replied, looking genuinely concerned. <em> “That was what You wished. If We could help, We would. But You know Our Vows. You crafted them. This is as far as We are able to aid You, 3. Please do not be Angry with us, We wish to help You.” </em></p><p>As much as Grian <em> wanted </em> to be angry, to shout at them to just whisk the evil knight away, he knew that there was definitely nothing they could do. This was Grian's fault, whatever the case. He remembered the oaths, he remembered instructing them only to interfere with his world if things got too dire…. </p><p>Whoever or whatever this Hels Knight was, he was powerful enough of a threat for the Watchers to break their silence. Which meant that he was extremely dangerous and a threat to their entire way of life.</p><p>But they could not, under any circumstance, help any further. </p><p>The Watchers waited patiently as Grian's shoulders sagged and he sighed. "Fine. Thank you for the information but I think I'll pass. We can handle ourselves without…. that…." </p><p><em> "If You wish it, 3" </em> Watcher 1 started.</p><p><em> "So then shall it be." </em> Watcher 2 finished. <em> "But please Take It. If not for Us, then for You." </em></p><p>
  <em> "You will Need it."  </em>
</p><p>Grian shook his head and stepped back. "I'll figure this out on my <em> own." </em>He insisted and the Watchers smiled. </p><p>
  <em>"We Understand. We are Proud of what You have built and how far You have come. As always We respect Your Choice."</em>
</p><p>Grian could not help but feel nervous at that. Yes they trusted him and for the most part had done as he asked. </p><p>But it wasn't just about the other Watchers. </p><p>Grian could feel a deep empty chasm inside of his heart craving to have the old magic flood back into place and fill it up. For so long he had run from that feeling and he thought he had buried the ashes so far under that it smothered the flames, leaving it a dull ache only. </p><p>But the embers were still smouldering deep inside him, gnawing, biting, aching; hungry to be reunited with its missing piece. </p><p>And Grian shuddered as he moved back towards the portal. That small well of magic remnants left within him were screaming to be refilled but he shook his head. </p><p>He couldn't. He knew he couldn't go back. So he forced himself to think about Mumbo. His best friend, his partner in shenanigans; his…. most precious one….. </p><p>Right now Mumbo was suffering a terrible curse because Grian hadn’t been there to see it happen and Grian needed to <em> stop it. </em>And to stop whoever this Hels was.</p><p>Still, the aching chasm persisted. </p><p>He stepped back out of the portal into the dark night, intent to pull out his rockets when he turned and saw familiar blue in front of him. He gasped and looked up, seeing a shocked face of one of the Hermits. “Bdubs!”  Grian gasped. </p><p>“What… is this?” The other asked, eyes wide as he stared up at the impossible portal, blankets and a pillow bundled in his arms.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Scar was </span>
  <em>
    <span>always</span>
  </em>
  <span> dying. A while ago he’d died a bajillion times because of Grian and Bdubs. Not to mention how often he ran into things and fell from stuff. Suffice it to say, however, he shouldn't have died after talking to Doc. The cybernetic creeper man was working on things, grinding away when he texted him in the chat and asked to meet him in the Shopping District in City Hall to discuss “new and interesting events”. But it wasn’t until after they’d made it to the Shopping District that he’d been slain where he stood for Doc to witness.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before it all went down, Scar had devised his big plans for Area 78 and drafted them up with eagerness as Iskall returned to his Tree in search of Mumbo who had suddenly and without warning, shrieked and teleported. Something seemed to spook him, but what, Scar would never know and he figured Iskall had it handled. He tucked the blueprints in his inventory as the rain started to fall and Xisuma wasn’t on to deal with the weather so he let it drench him as he headed to his office where Doc was waiting.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He laid all of the plans out and tried to explain what was happening. Scar was a little surprised that Doc didn’t really seem all too shocked to hear that Mumbo had somehow transformed, but then again he was a half-cybernetic creeper doctor with extremely heightened intelligence so he’d probably seen weirder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The blueprints, which doubled as the Hermits Environmental Protection Agency -HEP- and the Area 78 HQ, showed a massive project; it would take more than one Hermit to build and Doc was intrigued. Scar already had his Mechanized ScarX Security Forces and Enforcer on hand for protection and surveillance of the best area to begin construction, and also to keep everything running smoothly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had worried that his HEP agents might be too busy with all the Mycelium, but he was fairly certain that even if Grian (because let’s face it it was always Grian) was the one messing up his beautiful grass, he’d been somewhat absent and not as around as usual (or so he was </span>
  <em>
    <span>hoping</span>
  </em>
  <span>). </span>
</p><p>
  <span>All in all, Scar was exceptionally </span>
  <em>
    <span>resourceful</span>
  </em>
  <span> and with his Mayoral funds he was sure that the new Area would be quite the containment facility indeed. Doc, of course, had eagerly agreed to help with creating the testing chambers because Scar had a lot of diamonds at his disposal that he promised the amalgamation upon helping. And while it was better for G.O.A.T to be solely Doc’s quest, there was absolutely nothing wrong with a bit of Mayoral funding, especially since Scar was exceptionally powerful in that position and also with his side Ghastbusting service. He had many many agents and a large mechanical workforce at his beck and call- Doc was planning to call upon certain Mayoral favours at some later date. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Goatfather had to </span>
  <em>
    <span>prosper </span>
  </em>
  <span>after all. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Scar looked out of the window and sighed, annoyed at the sight as Doc hummed and looked over the plans. The amount of Mycelium was growing, he could see some of it’s disgusting spores creeping into the grass below and he sighed inwardly. He really needed to talk to Grian, but they had other things to worry about, such as the fact that there was a Red Ender Mumbo currently still walking about Hermitcraft freely and none of them knew if what happened to him was contagious. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Scar was snapped out of his thoughts as he turned his gaze to Doc, realizing he’d been speaking. “It’s a deal. I think this can definitely be done quickly if we pool resources.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Deal then.” Scar held his hand out and they shook, agreeing to their deal inside of his office for once, because the Mayoral Diamonds were to be used for the benefit of Hermits and, though up until this point he’d just been spending them on silly things, this was a cause that would definitely benefit the Server.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You want my man Tango to help?” Doc asked as he rolled up the blueprints, Scar leaning against the window. Once again Jellie was in his seat and he didn’t have the heart to kick her out. She was, after all, the Unofficial-Sort-of-Also-Official-Second-Mayor. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s apparently built something massive under the shopping district, if anyone can build interesting testing chambers, it’s Tango.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I saw that…”  Scar nodded. “Though I’m still trying to work out in my head how much space he’s used for it and how much I should be charging him for that space…..” He shrugged. “But if he helps then this can be his payment.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So long as the Goatfather can do a little</span>
  <em>
    <span> testing</span>
  </em>
  <span> of my own, everything should work out just </span>
  <em>
    <span>fine.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Doc grinned and Scar tried not to be intimidated by the sinister look as they stepped back outside into the night sky. Bdubs hadn’t gone to sleep, which was exceptionally peculiar. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is he on?” Doc asked, looking to the sky. They couldn’t hear any Phantoms so they had little to fear, particularly on the safest part of the Server. “He’s taking his sweet time.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s on.” Scar checked the status bar and shook his head. “Curiouser and curiouser.” He quoted as they both took to the skies. “But Tango is also on so let’s go talk to him!” </span>
</p><p><span>The Vex</span> <em><span>shouldn't </span></em><span>have been anywhere near him as they approached Tango’s toon Town. There were no Illager raids in progress, no Evokers to summon them, no ravagers that Tango was trying to herd this way or that; none got loose from his machines or anything. All of them were tucked away nice and neat in their prisons as they approached the towers and landed on the ground beneath the water tower. </span></p><p>
  <span>“Yo Tango, my man, you there?” Doc called. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It spawned quite literally out of nowhere, and when it came for him, Scar was more than a little startled. He heard the shrieking cackle before he saw it, the small swooping menace diving down at him in the darkness, completely catching him off guard and he yelped as it sank it’s sword into his shoulder. Scar cried out in pain as it burned and he staggered back, shocked by the onslaught as he fumbled to lift his sword. They were everywhere, descending upon them in a swarm and Doc whirled around as Tango yelped and dove into the frey from above, clashing swords with the swarm. The cracks of red in the Vexes blocked Scar’s vision as the majority of the swarm focused solely on him, a few breaking off to specifically target Doc and Tango, but the others dove in with immense eagerness. Some had dropped their swords and began clawing at him and biting, trying every method to down him faster and Scar was quickly overwhelmed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“HELP!” He cried, feeling them stealing his hearts away one hit at a time, dragging him down, down, down, his limbs growing weaker as he fought hard but was disarmed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The last thing Scar remembered was a cackling shriek and seeing two very red eyes glowing in the darkness before everything faded to black. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>*~*~*</span>
</p><p>
  <span>About two days earlier, Grian walked through the portal in the dead of night and Bdubs, bless his heart, stared at him with wide, shocked eyes, bedroll in his hand and stalk still. He had seen the portal in the distance, had flown to try and find out what it was before he slept, and now, he stared, just stared, his bedroll totally forgotten. It was not every day that someone appeared out of a mysterious portal, much less Grian. “What the heck is this?!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>What Bdubs had not been expecting was for Grian to grab hold of him by the collar and heave him forward and into the mysterious portal. He shrieked as he stumbled forward, bedroom lost on the other side and he scrambled back as the smaller Hermit walked in after him. “Why did you follow me?!” He demanded and drew his diamond sword, pointing it at the Mayor’s second in command. “Did Scar send you?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?! No! I was looking for resources and saw the big fancy portal!” He continued to scramble back until his back was pressed to a wall. “I was doing my thing, trying to explain a redstone thing that was totally working and not about to blow up and ruin my farm under my castle….. Totally not doing that…. When I saw it and went to check it out before bed time….” He felt the sword tip slide under his chin and he gulped. “I promise I wasn't following you….. <em>Please</em> don't put me in another guillotine….” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grian snorted and sighed, shaking his head as he pulled the sword away. Leave it to Bdubs to be that innocent. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s going on Grian? What is this place?” He asked, looking around. Whoever built it sure must have worked hard, it was enormous and intricately detailed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Watcher clicked his teeth together and eyed him, but Bdubs looked extremely confused. His large sparkly eyes really did help the innocent look, but Grian believed him and he finally fully sheathed his sword. He offered him a hand and the other took it, standing up with him.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Oh dear 3, You’ve brought a Friend?” </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Grian whirled around and paled when he spotted 1 approaching. His eyes went wide and he turned to look towards Bdubs but it was too late. Bdubs locked eyes with it and he gasped audibly. His mind was flooded instantly with a thousand thoughts a second, eyes all encompassing and all knowing bore into his soul down to the very core and he winced. It was too much. The world fell away from him, spinning and he lost sensation in his body and darkness stole his senses. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Crap!” Grian rushed to grab him when Bdubs started to fall, unconscious in moments.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Oh my, Your little Hermit could not bear the Sight of Us, I had Forgotten that would Happen. It has been So Long since One of Your Kind took Witness to Us. You, I believe, were the Last.” </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Grian groaned. There was no way to explain this now. Bdubs had seen a Watcher in its True Form and there was no way he would forget….. He had only one choice. “I can’t take him back to Hermitcraft until I’ve explained.” He looked up to 1. “We need to get him to a bed.” </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“You know what will happen now, Little Friend.”  </span>
  </em>
  <span>Watcher 1 loomed behind Grian. It could not help it of course, it was just very tall. </span>
</p><p>
  <span><strong>“No.”</strong> Grian winced as Watcher 1 lifted Bdubs’ limp form into its arms. “You<strong> can’t</strong>, that’s not- you promised!” </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“We Promised We would not Interfere intentionally. But Your little Friend has Seen. We must Prepare Him as We Prepared You, 3. It will Happen regardless." </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Grian charged after 1 and blocked their path. “No! Bdubs is a Hermit, MY Hermit and he is not going to be a Watcher!” </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“That is not up to You, 3. It is the Laws of Our Kind. You Know this, the Damage has already Passed. He has Seen. Even if We wished to Prevent it, We could not. It has already Begun, and besides, This Hermit is Already Marked.” </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Grian watched Watcher 1 take his friend away, panic filling his heart. “What do you mean already marked?!” </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“His Transformation would have come This Night, had You not Saved Him by bringing Him Here.” </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Transformation?!” Grian blocked their path and Watcher 1 stared down at him beyond and through it’s mask. “What do you mean transformation?!” </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“The one you call Mumbo went through One already. This Hermit’s Death would have come on This Night had You not brought Him through the Portal. It is now Delayed.” </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Grian groaned. “The Hels Knight sent something after Bdubs?” </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Indeed.” </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Grian let that sink in. Hels Knight was sending these things steadily and methodically.... if Grian didn't act quickly the entire Server could be corrupted. He needed help... he needed Bdubs' help.....</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fine…. but he does not get a mask without my say.” Grian insisted, worry all over his face. “Will the death still come for him if he leaves?”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“If we Give Him his Mask it will not be able to Harm Him.” </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Absolutely not! That power corrupts completely, I won’t let it hurt him.” Grian was firm in this and would not budge. He would just have to protect him on his own.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“As You Wish, Little One.” </span>
  </em>
</p>
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